


They call me a victor

by cathcacen



Series: They call me a victor [1]
Category: Hunger Games - Fandom, The Hunger Games, mockingjay - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 05:38:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5236304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathcacen/pseuds/cathcacen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say the survivors of the Hunger Games are brave. They aren't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Brave: Finnick

**Author's Note:**

> This has been lingering in my mind and writing archives something like forever. I think it's apt I let it out now. First written and published in Tumblr.

**They call me brave. Brave because I bested the Capitol. Brave because I came back from the horrors. Brave because I continued to live, and brave because I made something of myself, after.**

They call me brave again when I start to mentor. Because I took in the 14-year-old boy who had reminded them all of me. He had my eyes, they say, he had my smile. They flinch when he takes a sword to his throat two minutes in. They look to me, look for a reaction. I refuse to give it to them. I watch, I take it all in.

All I see is red.

The truth: I’m glad for it because he didn’t suffer. The nightmares that follow aren’t worth the life you lead after. They wouldn’t be worth it now, only I have  _her_.

 _She needs me._  

They call me brave. They cry for me, weep with me, when I am chosen for the quell.

I hear the things they whisper, when they think I am occupied. Brave. Beautiful. A lover. A liar. A thief of hearts with a stone-cold soul.

They know nothing. They see nothing. They don’t know that my heart had stopped when they’d called her name. How it sank when I realised what my mentor was doing.

How it shattered when I understood one simple fact: my teacher’s life, for my lover’s.

I call her my teacher.

She may as well be my mother.

They call me brave, after I escape the arena yet again. For giving all to make sure the Mockingjay – our only shot, survived. For finding the strength to survive, even when I am a fish out of water.

There is no water in thirteen. Only stone, only darkness. Only the drab greys that cage me as a beast, when I could be swimming free.

They call me brave when I share my secrets. Jealously hoarded, the currency and riches I’d acquired, whispered into my ear in the deep of the night. How many of those lovers had I imagined were her?

How often do I hate myself for degrading the thought of her to those animals who had robbed me of my dignity?

They call me brave when I join the cause. When I sign my name to the list whose return from war cannot be guaranteed. They call me brave for embracing death.

I’d embraced death a long time ago.

They don’t know this. How could they?

They call me brave, but they do not know me.

I am  _frightened_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Johanna


	2. Volatile: Johanna

**They call me volatile. I suppose it's true; while other victors have been known to quietly submit after a fashion, but not me. I've fought a long, hard war, and emerged, not stronger, but significantly more defiant.**

They've taken everything from me. They took my mother first. Hard worker, the one who put bread on our table, who inspired me in every way to fight. Who taught me that fighting to my death was better than letting my soul die within. They took my aunt next. She was my best friend, the mute Mason who watched over me and braided my hair when ma could not see me to school. They took my friends, one after the other.

They called me volatile, and continued to assert it with each person they took. Because I fought. I scratched, bit, clawed, and screamed.

They called me volatile, because I refused to submit.

I never begged.

I think that's why Snow left me my father. There's no one left I love - no one left, except the one person I didn't need, and didn't want in my life.

They called me volatile when I screamed for them to take him too.

But I heard only laughter, and Snow's promise.

We won't harm him, he'd said. He's all you have left.

The man who forced me into the games. Who, by taking tesserae in the name of his young daughter, assured that the odds would never be in her favour. The man whose sole purpose in my life was nothing more than to share my blood.

Him. _Him_ , Snow chose to leave.

They call me volatile for my temper, heartless for refusing to house the old man. They call Katniss an inspiration to the people, she, who's survived the same as I did, but somehow, inherently, lack fighting spirit. She wants to survive. To live.

Me, I just want to break all their necks.

And for that, they call me volatile. I suppose it's true.

The headlines break out the day the Quarter Quell is announced. District 7: Johanna Mason. Angered by re-election as tribute, Johanna Mason, known for volatile temperament and violent outbreaks, takes to hurling verbal abuse.

I don't think anyone's surprised at the way I treat my allies during the Quell. It's only natural, after all. There's no one left I love. I'm almost a mad woman at this point - crazier, loonier, than even Wiress.

As I tackle Katniss to the ground, I'm certain - just as she is certain - that the population of Panem believes it's because I'm volatile, violent, and untrustworthy. I'm certain they're cursing my name for harming their darling - their Girl on Fire. The one they cheer for, the Capitol's Darling.

The one I most certainly am not. I don't see the light in her, the fire, but Finnick does, and I trust him. Mostly.

And we're all dead anyway, right?

They're calling me volatile, calling for my death as I tear Katniss' tracker free.

But don't they know? It takes a lot of control to put my faith in her, to let her live while knowing that I most likely won't make it out. They don't know. They've never known. I guess it's up to us to teach them what volatility can do.

They call me volatile, but I am in control.


End file.
